


She's Playing Piano

by daisybrien



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (Last two relationships tagged are platonic btw), Affection, Alphynecentric, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Helping with Practice, Holding Each Other, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Music, Piano, Playing Piano, Public Display of Affection, Reminiscing, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 16:13:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5672173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisybrien/pseuds/daisybrien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Practice makes perfect' is a phrase they know all too well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She's Playing Piano

It’s a wild, cacophonous crash that snaps Alphys out of her concentrated reverie, making her jump from her workbench, careful not to disturb the delicate maze of metal and electrical wires her hands are tinkering with. Her heart thrums in her chest, swallowing the lump of panic that forms in her throat at the though of possible chaos breaking downstairs. She turns down her music, her mind milling through every possibility, each worse than the next; maybe there are burglars breaking in, loudly announcing themselves by crashing through the windows; or worse, Undyne getting hurt, tumbling down the stairs or injuring herself on some of the weirdly obscure and menacing exercise equipment she has, all metal hinges and weights finally falling through on their promise of harm.

She hears another crash, muffled through her ear buds, followed by what sounds like a desperate cry. It sends her running out of the room, plucking out one headphone as she peeks her head through the door, listening intently to hear the strange noise again. Despite its harshness, she feels calmer hearing it a second time, panic giving way to a confused curiosity; despite her nerves, her inquisitiveness drives her to tiptoe down the stairs, following the echoes as they grow louder and louder as she makes her way through the corridors.

It happens again, and only now can Alphys hear its peculiarity. There is something organized in its discordance, a melody hidden in a mishmash of deep, throaty vibrations that ring through the house. It is followed by a cry, trailing off it a frustrated growl, and it is only when she turns the corner to see Undyne crouched over her piano that she recognizes the crash of her strong hands against its delicate keys.

Her anxiety subsides, the knots sitting in her stomach coming undone, but her relief is short lived. She shuffles tentatively into the room, eyes scanning the stiff, bulging muscles of Undyne’s back, wary of how tensely they move under her skin. Her shoulders heave with each breath, the fins on her temples pinned back to the sides of her head in anger as her fingers move messily over the keys with an utterly failed gentleness, sour notes sounding in the air. 

Undyne whips her head back, Alphys gaining a peek of her face; she is grimacing, teeth bared as if she were in a fight, battling the beast of wood and string and ivory, a challenge she can’t beat. It snaps forward again, ready to retaliate, her hands smashing against the keys. They rise and fall like a crashing wave on a stormy sea, vicious and unrelenting; they fall once, twice, three times, each mashing of the keys growing massive in Alphys’ ears.

Alphys jumps back, once, twice, three times as Undyne’s hands continuing thrashing against the keyboard before they grow still, hanging limp and morose by her side. For a moment, she thinks of backing out of the room, leaving Undyne undisturbed to work through her annoyance alone. But looking at her so dejected makes her heart ache, the need to fan the flames of her fiery passion and determination pushing her forward, even as her hands itch and her voice shakes with trepidation.

“U-Undyne?” she stutters out, one hand hesitantly reaching out to tap her shoulder, the most gentle way of being able to catch her attention without aggravating her. 

Undyne whips around before Alphys’ hand can close the gap between them, hair fanning out, smacking Alphys in the snout. She jumps back, squeaking in nervous surprise.

“Alphys!” Undyne exclaims, reaching out from her seat on the bench to right her as she stumbles across the floor. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” she laughs hesitantly, rubbing the sore spot on her nose. “I’m fine, d-don’t worry.”

“Alright,” Undyne says breathlessly, turning back to the piano, body slack. Her fingertips hover over the ivory of the keys, refusing to impede on the space between them, as if her own anxieties and frustration were tangible in the gap, blocking her from physically pressing them down. “Good.”

There is a beat of silence, punctuated by the soft hiss of Undyne’s breathing through her teeth, her shoulders heaving up and down in rhythm with it, each movement slow and labored. Her stoic form alarms Alphys; she is frozen like stone statue, body all angles and awkward in its unusual trepidation. She taps down on one of the keys, both her finger and the note sudden and stiff as it rings through the air sharply; her strength is bottled and disjointed, failing to flow through her body as surely as it always does, the absence of her confidence leaving her body an empty husk perched on the bench.

“Undyne?” Alphys says again. She doesn’t turn around when she says her name, but still Alphys pushes on, inching towards her. “You okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” Undyne says, a tremor of uncertainty in her voice. She looks down, hands turning face up, her one eye scanning the lines etched into her palms. “Yeah, I’m good. What’s up?”

“I just, uh-“ Alphys starts to stutter. She doesn’t want to further irritate her by mentioning how badly she is struggling, afraid of insulting her; she continues, more afraid of having her stew in her own frustration. “You sounded kind of u-upset, I just wanted t-to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh,” Undyne breathes, turning away from her, staring dejectedly at the piano in front of her. “I’m just having a difficult practice.”

“O-okay then,” Alphys says. She starts to back away at the sight of Undyne’s unreceptiveness. “I-I don’t want t-t-to keep disturbing you, I’ll just leave you-“

“It’s just,” Undyne sighs, exhaling sorrowfully before her face contorts again, snarling as her fists fall to the keys with another thrumming crash. “I can’t get this damn piece right!”

“I-i-it’s okay!” Alphys exclaims, raising both her hands in a futile attempt to placate her, trying to calm her down before her anger threatens to consume her. Pianos are expensive. She doesn’t need Undyne breaking one. “You just started with it! I-I’m sure you’ll g-get it with a little more practice.”

“No I won’t,” Undyne groans. “This has been bugging me all week. The rhythm is awkward and I can’t get it up to speed,” she places one hand on the keys, fingers trilling out tinkling, nonsense melodies as they dance aimlessly across. “I just can’t get it right.”

“You say that every time,” Alphys retorts, “b-because you rush into every new thing you have. Y-you got to start slow, or else you’re n-never going to get the hang of it.”

“I don’t want to go slow,” Undyne groans, making Alphys giggle. She scoots over to let her squeeze onto the bench next to her, Alphys’ feet dangling off the edge, too short to touch the floor. “It gets boring when you have to go slow, the music just drags on and on. There’s no passion to it.”

Alphys chortles to herself. She takes Undyne’s hands, leading her slender fingers back on the keys. “You can’t put your passion in it if you don’t take the time to put the proper effort in.”

“I know,” she mutters. 

“He-hey,” Alphys ponders. “Why don’t you find that metronome and then-“

“I don’t like to go slow,” Undyne complains.

“W-well, you’re going to h-have t-to,” Alphys chastises. “I got it for you for a reason.”

“You don’t get it, Alphys,” Undyne says. “I didn’t like to go slow.”

Alphys squints at her suspiciously. “W-what d-do you mean…?” Undyne rubs the back of her neck sheepishly, a soft blush rising on her cheeks as her fins fold back in embarrassment. Alphys groans, burying her face in her hands. “Oh my god, Undyne.”

“I didn’t mean to break it!” Undyne cries. “I just got a little frustrated, and sometimes I don’t realize how strong my grip is, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Alphys sighs. “You just gotta have more patience.”

“That’s my problem,” Undyne says. A small smile graces her lips, more in amusement of herself than contentment as she shakes her head. “I don’t think I have any.”

“Well, y-you just have to b-build it up, then.”

Undyne sniffs out a laugh. “That’ll be easy.”

“H-hey!” Alphys cries. “D-don’t get yourself down like that! You taught me that I needed to build up my confidence, a-and now I’m gonna do the same with you!”

Alphys fidgets on the bench, lifting one of Undyne’s arms and slipping under it. She flops into her lap, shifting awkwardly on Undyne’s thigh as she drapes her tail to one side, catches her balance as she teeters, feet inches off the ground. She grabs each of Undyne’s hands by the wrist, pulling them around each side of her and pointedly placing them on the piano again.

“Play,” Alphys says, her attempt to be forceful lost in the humble tremor of her voice.

“Alphys,” Undyne chuckles nervously, “what the hell-“

“I-I s-s-said play!” she squeaks out. She loses all semblance to the vigor she wanted to impose, almost in nervous shock of her own initiation of such a brash move, even if it were so small. She is so close to Undyne, with her chest pressing warm against her back, her strong arms around her wide waist, and her breath tickling against her neck, cool against the bristling heat that rises in her skin. Even as Undyne kisses the top of her head, laughing deep in the back of her throat, there is a trepidation there, her own anxieties showing in the jitteriness of her hands.

“Dude, don’t do this,” Undyne says. “I can’t practice with someone else here.”

“Come on,” Alphys says. “I’ll be here to make sure you don’t get too frustrated. Give you encouragement.”

“Alphys-“

“F-for me,” she peeps. “P-please?”

She feels Undyne breathe a heavy sighs against her neck, ended by a lingering kiss, gentle and fleeting as her lips brush past. Undyne straightens, shifting one leg forward to the petals underneath the piano, Alphys rocking precariously on her lap. She stretches, arms reaching forward, squishing the girl between them as fingers intertwine and knuckles crack against each other before she sits up, regal and tall, and finally places her hands down on the piano keys with an assured finality.

The thought of tiny, soft trills of tinkling, gentle melodies can barely flit through Alphys’ mind before Undyne begins playing, fingers stiff with the strain of how she presses into the keys. The deep boom of them startles the idea out of her, mind unprepared for the deep, throaty thrum that breaks through the air and hums in her jaw and rattles in her teeth. It starts again, Undyne’s left hand bouncing scarily but surely in a hard, even rhythm; her right hand is just as loud, but not as fierce, rather dancing in complicated patterns as it flits back and forth.

It grows louder, a measured and gentle crescendo, swelling and ebbing as if in soft spirals through the air. Trills and chords ring in their ears, the deep strike of each key ringing longer and longer around them. They meld and mingle together, singing through the house and echoing off the walls, and as the music’s confident and passionate aplomb fills the room it stifles Alphys in awe, almost strangling her pleasantly in the most wonderful way. She can’t tell if she can’t catch her breath because she lost it in her wonder or if the music had just overcome her senses; not only in how she hears it boom and ring in her ear, but in seeing the dizzying ink of the sheet music laid out that she finds impossible to follow; in the sway of Undyne’s body against her back as her hands move back and forth in rhythm, foot beating against the petals, lost in her own creation; in the hearty taste of it dancing on her tongue as it bounces vigorously in her skull and down her throat into her chest; even in the lilt of Undyne’s breath of a whisper breezing on Alphys’ scalp, a sure count to keep in time with her waltz meant only for her to hear but still a fulfilling addition to the sensation overwhelming her.

There is a soft crack in the illusion, notes growing sour. Undyne falters, her hands stuttering over the keys as she tries and fails to right herself, the harmony growing into a muddle of incomprehensibility. The façade of the music falls, the curtain of it covering them and lulling them in peaceful awe falling in the struggle to keep it up. There is a pause, the remnants of a few mistakes on the tails of her waltz barely drifting in the air before she hears Undyne growl again.

“Dammit!” she cries. Her fists come down on either side of Alphys, slamming out a monster of frustrated cacophony from the piano, and Alphys startles, squealing.

“O-okay!” Alphys exclaims, raising her arms up as if to placate her. “I-it’s okay. J-j-just t-try again!”

“I can’t try again,” Undyne says. “That’s all I keep doing. It’s all I can do.”

“I-it’s no need to g-get angry,” Alphys says quietly. “Y-you’ll get the hang of it soon.”

Undyne breathes a heavy sigh, her forehead falling to lay on the back of Alphys’ head, arms winding around her waist gently. “I’m sorry for freaking out. I just,” she stops, a croaking choke lodged in her throat. When she speaks again, her voice is quiet, and just a little thick. “I just can’t get it.”

“W-why don’t you work on s-something else, t-then?” Alphys says. She reaches out, grabbing the sheath of papers perched precariously on the stand attached to the piano.

“I need to practice this piece.”

“B-but you’re s-so frustrated,” Alphys says. “Just d-do something else until you feel r-r-ready to come back to it. T-that’s what I do w-when some of my experiments go wrong,” she snorts to herself, letting out a pathetic laugh, “a-a-and some of t-them have really gone wrong!”

“You’re still dwelling on that, huh,” Undyne mumbles, hugging Alphys to her. “You know you fixed your mistakes.”

“Y-yeah,” Alphys says. “S-so of course, y-you can too, right?”

Undyne hums to herself in thought. “If you say so.”

“W-well, I do say so, then!” Alphys exclaims, receiving a hearty laugh in response. 

She starts shuffling through the sheet music, reaching up to grab the stacks of loose papers that Undyne leaves strewn across the top of the piano. She goes through slowly, looking at each piece carefully, pretending she knows what Undyne would find easy. She bites her lip, the notes and lines and symbols nothing more than gibberish to her, and she almost laughs; she can produce programming variables from nothing more than a thought, decipher any kind of mathematics that could be slammed down in front of her, recite the periodic table by heart, yet she is left numbly dumbfounded by the notes dizzying patterns across the pages.

She’s almost about to give in and ask Undyne for advice, admit her own extreme lack of expertise in musical skill, when her fingers graze over strangely rough and tattered paper, wedged hidden between wrinkled copies of other pieces – among pristine, crisp sheets were some water-stained, ripped, even destroyed beyond repair, only to be kept in her sentimentality and nostalgia for the old piano she had hauled out from the dumps of the Underground - Undyne had collected for herself over the years.

She pulls them out, stifling a cry when some of the other sheets threaten to follow and spill out onto the floor. She hugs the disorganized stack against her while she deciphers oddity. They were not printed pristinely in ink, no professionalism to their appearance. Their titles were written in rough, bold pencil in familiar handwriting, the lines of the bars sketched uneven and wonky along the pages, each note unique in its lopsidedness and messy scribble. Smudges and doodles decorate the margins, faded images of erased notes marring the backdrop for the final, chaotic copy written above it. 

“Oh my god,” Alphys laughs. She feels Undyne’s chin perch itself on her shoulder, followed by her strong arms growing stiff and awkward around her. “Did you write these?”

Undyne stutters sheepishly, her arms rising to take the sheath in front of Alphys. “Those are nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Alphys says. She leans forward, perching on the edge of Undyne’s knees, holding out the sheets as far as they can go. “T-this is your writing!”

“Get back here!” Undyne says. She leans forward with Alphys, who almost starts slipping off her lap, squealing as she grips the stool in a desperate attempt to keep herself on it. 

Alphys slips off the side of Undyne’s legs, settling her butt against the bare seat. She squirms as Undyne tries to snatch the papers back, the scratch of notes and words blurred in her attempt to keep them away from her prying, reaching hands, stretching as she leans farther and farther away. 

“Give them back!” Undyne growls; there is laughter in her tone, fierce and growling as she screams, and Alphys can’t help but follow along, overwhelmed by their scuffle, almost toppling over.

“Oh m-my god!” Alphys cries, pulling out one particular paper from the pile. “D-did you title this with my name?”

“I said give it back!” Undyne says, more frantically this time. She finally gets her arms around her, carefully prying the stack from Alphys’ chubby fingers and clutching them to her chest, leaving her with nothing more than the single sheet labeled for her in her hands.

There is a soft beat of silence, the hum of the house working softly in the background lulling them through their awkwardness. Alphys looks down at the work in her hands, fingers tracing over bumpy surface, permanently marred where Undyne’s fierce hand had pressed her writing deep in the shape of her name. One finger follows each bar slowly, each note meaning nothing in her ignorance of music yet everything in the notion of them being written solely for her.

When she looks up, Undyne avoids her gaze, her cheeks as red as the heat that Alphys feels rising in the skin of her own neck. She chews on her lip, fins softly dipping in her flush.

“Undyne,” Alphys breathes. “H-how old is this?”

“It’s uh,” Undyne stammers. One hand moves to rub the back of her neck. “I don’t know, really. I don’t remember.” 

Alphys is pretty sure it’s a lie, watching as Undyne starts picking her nails, looking up at her with unusually shy eyes. She doesn’t want to tell her, hesitating, as if the thought of writing something for her before they really were together – as if Alphys hadn’t done the same embarrassing thing in the first place – was something taboo, inappropriate for two friends at the time.

They only might have been friends at the time, Alphys reminds herself reluctantly, even if her own desire for Undyne to have pined over her like she had in return was likely true. Even if the sheet was tucked among the same yellowing, even water damaged books of classical music – some of them wrinkled and still emitting a sweet stink from the dumps they had spent such cherished time in, now only a distant memory -proof of it dating back before they had even left the Underground, she still refused to assume so. Whether it is to spare Undyne from her fluster or the dregs of her self-loathing - beaten and battered but still putting up puny and useless battles with her mind - burrowing into her head, she can’t tell.

“I could play that,” Undyne pipes up, startling Alphys from her thoughts. “I mean, it’s easy enough, I pretty much know it by heart – having written it, of course.” She gives Alphys a small smile, one that grows into a wide, toothy grin as Alphys squeals in enthusiasm. “Do you want to hear it?”

Alphys doesn’t answer, only climbs back onto Undyne’s legs, tenderly placing the sheet onto the stand. She looks up at it with wide eyes, cherishing each flourish and scrawl of Undyne’s penmanship, violent and chaotic across the page like wild art, so unlike the controlled meticulousness of her fingers dancing across the keys, but both moving with the same bubbling passion underneath.

Undyne positions her fingers over the keys, starting almost immediately, the song so familiar and welcome that she almost belts it off automatically with a casual ease. Alphys is surprised to hear its staccato beat, slow in its boisterousness, fingers tapping out a humble cheeriness. She wonders how it could have ever reflected what Undyne saw in her, let alone when she had only seen herself as nothing more than a depressing nuisance, slowly milling and dragging herself on everyone else’s tails before finding the solace of recovery in them. She was not this happy tune then, nothing more than the sad lull of a deep trill of quiet, rumbling notes on the lowest octave of the keys.

The soft plunking of the keys breaks out into another soft, humble harmony, Undyne swaying gently with each swell and ebb of it, her hands pulling her along as they chime out the tune. This might not have been her, but it could’ve been her potential; it could be her now, a little awkward but with enough of a learned positivity and perseverance that took her what felt like an eternity to gain, an eternity she would gladly give up again to maintain.

The music fades out, only to be replaced by a new piece courtesy of Alphys’ eager hands. One by one they are placed on the tiny ledge, only to be replaced again and again. There’s wonder in each one; the sadly sweet melody only titled ‘determination,’ starkly plain compared to the scribble of others; a strong, biting march with no title, the sheet messy with notes crammed into the margins and what she thinks is another bar for an accompaniment in a large, familiar handwriting that Alphys can’t quite place; a tinkling, sadly adventurous tune, evolving slowly into a pleasantly happy waltz she thinks she might hear on a merry-go-round; a simple piece, its sheet music decorated with sketches of flowers and vines blooming between the bars and a few strange water stains smudging the pencil marks, Undyne stiff and sniffling when she just slightly falters over the end of its childlike melody.

One follows another, each with shared touches of the hand and soft pecks to each other, a practice of their intimacy as much as it is for Undyne’s sore and aching fingers. The evening is spent filling the house with music, punctuated by snorting laughter, soft sighs against each others lips, the silence of their two beating hearts. It spirals around the room, humming in their ears as each piece is played and replayed, thrumming in Alphys’ chest; it is good practice, practice between each other that has brought the two of them here, has brought her strength and confidence so far, and has led to a joy she never thought she would be able to find. 

It takes hours before Undyne turns back to the original piece, but only because she had lost herself in the gaiety of their time, spent reminiscing and enjoying the feel of the other against the backdrop of the tinkling piano she had made for them. When she does, the frustration is kept at bay, determination pulling her through to bring the piece, even if massively imperfect with slow tempo and sour notes, to its end. 

She continues her practice, and Alphys continues with her work, both bringing the broken pieces of their talents and lives and love slowly but ever so surely together, bit by bit, to fruition.


End file.
